Eight for Eight
by Le Me
Summary: 'Stolen Scenes from the Waverider' Part 1: "I think you've been separated from the Kid for too long, Professor, because you're clearly not thinking straight if you think I'm wearing that."


**A/N:** This series will mainly be made up of my ramblings from Tumblr/Discord. Feel free to give me ideas on scenes you'd like to see. Will likely be Snart focused and I may or may not pretend the Hawkpeople ever existed.

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Leonard stared at the offending garment in front of him for a good ten seconds before finally shifting the scandalized look to the man holding it. Apparently, this alone wasn't enough to get his point across, as the thing wasn't hastily removed from his sight and burned as his facial expression was clearly communicating. It stood to reason then that either the individual holding the accursed item was woefully ignorant of body language, extremely inattentive or just incredibly stubborn. Considering who was stood before him, Leonard immediately went with the latter option, which was a problem because he also fell into that category.

Realising he'd likely met his match, and wanting to put an end to the ridiculous stand-off, he opted for words instead. And Leonard Snart didn't mince words. "I think you've been separated from the Kid for too long, Professor, because you're clearly not thinking straight if you think I'm wearing _that_."

Despite the fact that Martin was considered well within the Captain Cold Danger Zone™ - anywhere between two and two hundred feet depending on mood, wind conditions and how much charge was left in his Cold gun, according to Jax and Ray - and was thus completely exposed to the villain's signature glare, he didn't even bat an eyelid.

In fact, the physicist seemed rather put-out. "Ordinarily, Mr Snart, I wouldn't suggest it, however even I must care to admit that your particular _affinity_ for all things cold is not going to offer much protection in _this_ weather," he said, indicating to the ice forming on the outside of the _Waverider_ 's viewing windows.

Ice from modern day Bavaria, to be exact, which Rip had chosen as their next port of call for locating Savage. Although if the Captain had known it was the start of the Christmas market season, he may have tweaked the landing date a tad to avoid unnecessary...exuberance in the face of what was essentially a dangerous manhunt. With a shout of, "Neat, I've always wanted to see a proper yuletide festival!" and a quick foray to the fabricator, Ray had been fully on form and too busy at the time picking a design for a festive woolly hat to notice he had been the focus of that comment.

It had bottomed out at approximately -5 °C, "Perfect strolling temperature," according to Leonard at the mission brief, who had been ready to leave the ship as is in his signature black jacket and cargo pants before being accosted by a surprisingly bold Martin Stein intent on ruining his reputation. One icy glare later and here they were.

Nonplussed, Martin continued. "And for your information, Jefferson and I merged this morning so I can assure you there is nothing amiss with my cognitive functions," he stated in a slightly defensive tone. "Now, **here,** just put it on," he added, shaking the garment in emphasis and looking very much like a wary rider approaching a wild horse with a saddle. When this action roused no positive response from the younger man, he let his arms droop and he addressed the villain in a way that might've been considered half exasperated and half confused. "I thought you had a preference for the color blue and icy insignias?"

Leonard's expression slowly began getting frostier as if to prove the older man's point. "Sorry Professor, I may not be a fashion guru, but even I draw the line at blue knitted sweaters with tiny snowflakes on." The delivery of the line was so dry it could've been used for kindling.

"…I believe Gideon came up with the design," Martin clarified in a carefully constructed neutral tone, very aware that the AI was likely listening and just waiting to throw in her two cents at any moment. The professor knew it was impossible to 'hurt' - what was essentially - a Ship's feelings, but he didn't want to appear to take sides, all the same.

Leonard had no such tact. "I'd rather be naked."

To the unpractised eye, the older man could've looked to be finally giving up on his mission, what with the loud scoff and rolling eyes and turning away from the crook with an air of 'Fine, do what you will,' but it didn't last long due to a genetic predisposition for stubbornness. After having donned most of the Legends in warm sweaters already, with varying levels of success, Leonard was last on his list, and Martin was going eight for eight. Even Rip hadn't fully escaped the 'Great Dressing Down' as Jax had called it. Although Sara and the Hawks had found the tan brown design with small hourglasses on, 'cute' and 'very him.'

"Honestly, I don't see what all the fuss is about," Martin went on, patience beginning to leak, "Dr Palmer had no issue adorning _his_ sweater."

Martin realised the weakness of his argument as soon as it left his mouth.

Apparently Leonard thought the same and, seemingly Done with this human barrier, began to saunter past, snarking out, "That's because Raymond is the personification of a knitted sweater; too bright, too big and something to be avoided at all costs if you want to keep your street cred."

As a man of observation, the Professor couldn't fault him on that, and instead elected to reason with him using familiar territory. "Well, if Mr Rory - _your partner,_ may I add - can put one on with neither complaint nor care, then I don't see why you can't do the same, Mr Snart."

The thief stopped in his tracks and turned back to look at the other man, his face a rictus of disgust. "Thanks, Professor, I'd only just managed to purge the mental image."

The pyromaniac had indeed suprised everyone by setting an example and donning a patterned sweater almost as quickly as Ray had, although this could've been chalked up to wanting to shut up the yammering man as quickly as possible once he started listing potential sweater designs to complement Mick's 'persona'. "Ooh! I know...Heat Miser!" had been the clincher.

At any rate, if someone had a problem with what Mick was wearing, they'd never say it to his face as long as they liked theirs. There was also the fact that since the whole team had now been systematically cornered by the Professor and wrapped in similarly dreadful garb, no-one could really say anything negative without turning into respective pots and kettles. At least Gideon was having a blast.

Tipping his head skywards and addressing said AI, Leonard asked, "Inspired from his flamethrower, was it, Gideon? Or his sunny disposition?"

 _"I'm afraid I would not know, Mr Snart. My systems show no record of fabricated knitwear for Mr Rory. I felt I couldn't do any better than the one he already owned."_

Snart froze at that comment, a fitting reaction considering the conditions outside, and he visibly rolled this information around in his head for several moments before ariving at a response. His face was comically appalled. "…You're telling me that Mick brought that orange monstrosity on board of his own volition?"

 _"That is correct, Mr Snart."_

Not even a few seconds went by before the criminal came to some sort of decision. "Change of plan, Professor; you and the Kid do your little 'Fire Dance' routine and send an _accident_ in my partner's direction, and we have a deal."

Martin was dumbfounded. He'd been attempting to festoon the thief in knitwear for a good fifteen minutes with zero success. The sudden change of heart thew him for a loop. And then the meaning behind Leonard's comment caught up with him. "It's going to take myself and Jefferson _blasting_ Mr Rory with a fireball in order for you to wear this?"

Leonard looked at the thing once more, pain visible in his expression as if he were forced to look at a piece of detritus. All in all it just made him look like a grumpy cat. "Blackmail and coercion, I can accept, but the day I allow myself to be seen in public with a man who has _voluntarily_ dressed in a Cheeto-orange knitted sweater covered in miniature flames and sporting the words, 'FIRE IS OVERRATED, PLAY WITH ME INSTEAD,' is the day I've truly lost all of my self respect."

Visibly bitter, Leonard added, "Not that I had any _left_ after jumping into bed with you festive idiots in the first place."

Martin considered this for a moment. He extended the garment once more to the criminal, a pleased smile now on his lips and something like fondness pulling at the corners of his eyes. "Call me a sentimental old fool, but I believe the day you made the decision to leave behind your criminal dealings and come aboard this ship full of _festive idiots_ to help a man save the world, Mr Snart, is the day you truly _gained_ all of your self respect."

Leonard glanced briefly down at the offering for a final time before looking back up. He searched Stein's eyes for what seemed like an eternity before finally plucking the clothing out of his hands with a complex expression on his face. "Don't get used to it," he said, taking off in the direction of the hatch.

Eight for eight, a satisfied Martin thought, as the morning sun temporarily found a gap in the thick snow clouds, thawing some of the ice coating the ship's large windows, just a little.

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 **A/N:** Coming up next...Sometimes Rip thinks he's actually in charge of a kindergarten rather than an elite team of Legends.


End file.
